“Now you’re being a dick.”

“Yeah, well, excuse me if I’m handling this differently than you. Not all of us can give zero fucks about life.”

“Okay, I can see we’re not going to be civil about this.”

“Being civil would have included you talking about this with me. It would mean trying to work it out, but I can see that’s not even on the table as an option. So yeah, I’m going to be fucking bitter, I might very well be a dick, and if I’m frustrated, it’s because of you.” Venom drips from his voice, and his brows are narrowed as anger seeps from every pore on his body.

“I’ve tried talking to you, Ryot, and you haven’t listened. So I’m done. There’s nothing more I can give you.”

Frustrated, he pushes his hand through his hair. “Just tell me if you’ll do the wedding, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Even though I want to move on with my life, I know what Ryot says is right. If we separate now, attention will be stolen away from JP and Kelsey. I don’t know them well at all, but I do know that I’m not an asshole, and I wouldn’t want to steal the attention from anyone on their special day. Despite wanting to end this mental purgatory that I’ve been in, I know it’s the right thing to do.

“It doesn’t seem fair of you to ask me to do this. Pretend to be your wife when we’re not together.”

“I’m not asking you to solve world fucking hunger, Myla. I’m asking you to just act like you can be around me for a week.”

“A week?” I ask, my voice rising. “Why a whole week?”

“Because it’s a whole thing in Napa.” He pinches his brow in frustration. “Listen, if you don’t do this, I’m not signing.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I don’t know what else to do.” He holds his arms out. “You sprung this on me out of nowhere. So yeah, maybe I am threatening you.”

“That’s how it always is, right, Ryot? You do what it takes to get your way?” I stand and toss the throw pillow on the couch.

“Care to explain to me what your hidden message is with that statement?”

“I’m good,” I say as I move toward the fridge to grab a La Croix. “But since I want a divorce, looks like I’ll be attending your friend’s wedding, smile and all.”

“Good,” he says as he rises from the chair.

“A thank you wouldn’t hurt.”

“You want me to thank you? After you threw a divorce at me last night without discussion, just a pen and a tab of where to sign? Yeah, no such luck, Myla.” He moves by me toward the pantry, where I’m sure he’ll grab one of his godforsaken protein bars.

But as he passes, I catch a whiff of his cologne, and for a moment, and only a moment, the smell reminds me of the man I fell in love with. The man who wasn’t driven by proving himself but who simply lived life to his fullest. The man who took me into his arms when I needed him the most and showed me how much I mattered. How much he truly loves me.